


Bundle of Feathers

by CandyQueenAO3



Series: Ineffable Celestials [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient History, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crack Treated Seriously, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dark Comedy, Established Relationship, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyQueenAO3/pseuds/CandyQueenAO3
Summary: The year is 115 AD. Aziraphale successfully convinces Crowley to spend his centennial shed in the comfort of their home.The next day, however, Crowley wakes up, still a snake, with no sign of Aziraphale to be found. He regurgitates a bundle of angel feathers that smells like his husband.He didn't!...Did he?...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Celestials [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674949
Comments: 19
Kudos: 143





	Bundle of Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> I placed this story in 115 AD because that was when pillows really started being cloth stuffed with feathers instead of just lumpy-ass pieces of wood.  
> Please ignore the horrifc implications of Crowley losing his mind at the thought of killing Aziraphale and just enjoy this stupid little blurb.

The Serpent slithered through the undergrowth of Eden. He relished in the feel of the supple grass against his scales and the sweet smells he detected when he stuck out his tongue to scent the air.

There!

On the breeze!

He poked his scaly head out from under a shrub and caught sight of his prey.

It was a dove, white feathers iridescent in the warm sunlight. The serpent crept forward, silently, so as not to startle his would-be meal. When he was close enough, his body tensed, then sprang. 

The dove, sensing it was in peril though far too late to do anything about it, turned around.

The serpent caught a glimpse of wide, frightened, celestial-blue eyes before his jaws clamped shut around its plump body.

*~*~*~*~*

Crowley jerked awake.

He swore he could still feel the dove’s tender meat beneath his fangs.

Wait.

Fangs?

Ah, that was right.

After roughly 2,000 years of slinking off to go hide in caves to undergo his centennial shed away from prying eyes, his husband, Aziraphale, had had enough and put his angelic foot down. Crowley would stay in their home for his shed and he refused to hear a single word of protest. The demon, always unable to resist his angel, acquiesced.

Now, as he lay in the sheets that still smelled of his husband after being put to bed last night while still in snake form, Crowley wondered how he had ever put up with shedding alone. Last night there had been a warm bath to ease the old skin loose, plenty of rough surfaces to scratch against to get the itchy thing  _ off, _ and even gentle hands peeling away the pieces that didn’t come off in one clean slough.

If Crowley could remember his time in Heaven, he was sure it would have been like that.

He went to flop inelegantly over, refusing for the moment to revert to his standard corporation. Perhaps he could tempt Aziraphale into letting him curl up around his shoulders…

However, when he went to move, he felt something weighing him down. It didn’t feel like something was pressing him into the mattress, like when his husband would sleep on his chest. It felt more like his  _ body mass  _ had shifted considerably.

He angled his head to roam over his body, coils almost long enough to reach the end of their mattress, and froze when he caught sight of the  _ lump  _ protruding from his midsection.

Did he eat last night? Hardly. He didn’t have much of an appetite on the  _ best  _ of days, and the sheds actually  _ decreased  _ it. As more awareness of the waking world, and his body, filtered in, Crowley became aware of a distinct lack of  _ presence. _

Specifically, he couldn’t detect Aziraphale  _ anywhere  _ inside the villa they shared. Crowley’s tongue flicked out to see if he could smell his husband, when something fluffy and  _ white  _ came out alongside it. 

Was that a feather?

Crowley nudged the crumpled, drool-soaked thing with his nose to get a better reading on it. The scent on it was familiar, like freshly cut sweet-pea flowers, and the pearlescent shine was unmistakable under the slime…

_ Oh dear Somebody… _

Had he?...

Did he?...

Crowley clenched the muscles in his abdomen, forcing the  _ thing  _ inside him up his throat and out of his mouth. It landed on the bed with a wet splat and Crowley was shifting back into human form in an instant.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, letting out a low moan of despair from between his fingers. Tears sprung from his eyes to flow unbidden down his cheeks.

_ Aziraphale! _

All that was left of his poor angel were scraps of a white toga and a bundle of spit-covered feathers. And these were, undoubtedly,  _ Aziraphale’s  _ feathers. The sweet-pea scent of them still clung to the barbs, even after being partially  _ digested. _ As Crowley plucked one from the pile with a trembling hand, he could even feel the faint, lingering sensation of an angel’s Grace.

If Crowley had been at all cognizant beyond his blind grief, he would have noticed that the pillow Aziraphale had lovingly crafted for him earlier that year, made from cuttings of an unused tunic and stuffed with feathers shed during his moult, was conspicuously absent.

As it stood, Crowley could only gather up the filthy bundle in his arms. He didn’t know the exact process for how his snake form would have killed Aziraphale, whether it was true destruction via some acidic version of Hellfire or a simple, slow suffocation; but it mattered little now.

Either his angel was completely obliterated, or had discorporated in a painful, terrifying manner. Had he struggled? Did he feel betrayed by his demonic lover suddenly turning on him? If he hadn’t been outright destroyed, he probably wouldn’t come back to earth after suffering such a sundering of trust.

Either way, Crowley’s angel was gone for good.

The demon rose from the bed on trembling legs. A flew feathers fluttered free from the soggy bundle he clutched to his chest as he staggered out of their bedroom. 

“...fix this...we can fix this…”

He drifted, detached from sense and reality, through the empty rooms of their villa as if trying to find the answer to his predicament amongst the furniture.

He didn’t notice the angel standing there in their kitchen, looking deeply concerned, having only just come home from an early-morning stroll through the marketplace. Aziraphale watched, transfixed, as Crowley puttered about their kitchen. The demon’s eyes were glassy and tears still streamed down his face.

“...gotta...adhesive, maybe? Bandages?”

He mumbled something incomprehensible and Aziraphale caught sight of the sodden lump in his husband's arms.

“Dearest, is that the pillow I gave you for our anniversary this year? What on  _ earth  _ did you do to it?”

Crowley startled, dropping the pile. He turned to face the angel, eyes gone fully yellow.

“Az…’ziraphale?”

“Yes? Who were you expecting it to be?” Aziraphale replied with a playful smirk, though the concern hadn’t fully left his face.

Crowley looked down at the mess by his feet, back up to his angel’s face, then down to the mess again.

_ Oh... _

The demon snapped his fingers and the bundle that he had once assumed to be his husband’s remains reconstituted itself into a fluffy pillow overstuffed with angel feathers. He picked it up, trying desperately to stifle the ashamed flush that sprung high on his cheeks. A gentle hand cupped the side of his face and angled it so Aziraphale could better gaze into his eyes.

“Please, dearest, you’re worrying me. I came home to find you in quite the state. Did something happen? Was it…” his eyes flickered meaningfully to the floor before returning to Crowley’s.

Crowley cleared his throat, still a little hoarse from crying and regurgitating the pillow, and replied, “No, no, ‘s not Hell. I, erm, woke up this morning and thought that...well...thought that after falling asleep in my first form...thought that I ate you.” The last three words sounded like they had to be forced out past choking embarrassment.

Aziraphale’s face twisted in bafflement.

“Dearest...you were only five feet long last night. You couldn’t have eaten me if you tried,”

The angel gestured at himself, all 5’8 of him. Crowley muttered and pressed his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“I know  _ now _ , but at the time…”

Aziraphale didn’t give him the chance to finish that thought. He pressed his lips against his husband’s in a quick peck before pulling away to smile up at him.

“It’s alright, dearest. I’m here,”

Crowley exhaled, letting the tension leak from his shoulders. He returned Aziraphale’s smile with a relieved one of his own. 

“I know,”

**Author's Note:**

> There once was a Serpent of Eden  
> Who dreamed of a Dove he was eatin'  
> He woke with a fright  
> After the night  
> And found that his dream was misleadin'


End file.
